Gradual Beginnings
by Ogino Chihiro
Summary: Six years have passed since the war ended, and Draco finds himself in the least likely of places. Post-War, no Epilogue. Harry/Draco.


Disclaimer: I don't own this story. But I'm sure you people all know that. Hats off to J.K. Rowling.

**A/N: So. This is the first chapter of the first story I've written in God knows how long. I find it interesting that I can end up going in a circle - I drive myself away from this site time and time again to no avail. Thus, I have returned. To write this story, which will be lengthy. Amazing. I'm going to try and put effort for once, so hopefully I'll get some reviews. Enough rambling. This chapter is rather short because it's mostly like an introduction. **

_Chapter One_

_Of Inner Conflict and Discovery_

The pewter colored sky above London in the morning shone dully, clouds obscuring most of the promising rays of sunlight that persistently threatened to burst through. It was the quietest morning anyone had had since before they remembered. The normally bustling roads of the inner city were muffled by a strangely calm silence. A chilly wind blew over the few pedestrians making their ways to work, sprinkling them with mist and morning dew. It was difficult to imagine then, that despite the relatively uncrowded streets, Draco found himself feeling extremely pressured.

As far as he had known, his life was stable. He had done nothing to cause trouble or disrupt his daily schedule. Things had been the same all week, until today. His routine had remained unchanged since his decision to leave his natural community, the Wizarding World, six years ago. At that time, witches and wizards in Britain were experiencing a huge turnover. The shocking and dramatic end to the war against Voldemort was met with two general reactions: celebration and violence, mainly towards all persons related to Death Eaters. Because of this, Draco had slipped away, virtually disappearing and managing to avoid the press after his name was cleared. He chose not to become a recluse, perhaps, but opted for something more 'favorable' and immersed himself in Muggle London, working full time as a lowly accountant in a small but successful company. He had at first, turned up his nose at the offer. The ridiculousness of him, Draco Malfoy, living like a Muggle! It was almost too much to bear. However, the tension surrounding him only increased, and gradually, he began to face the danger of staying with his family. Draco was perhaps the most ostracized – he was still suspected by many in denial as the murderer of Albus Dumbledore. And so, he left magical society, only to trap himself within the dull life of the Muggle. It hardly befit his nature, but he knew that in order to escape, he needed to abandon his Malfoy name as well as the ideals and pride that came with it. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had mulishly decided to remain and tolerate the bitter prejudice that had only mounted when they were acquitted with close to no punishment. He could hardly blame the public's resentment; though he and his family had emerged on the Light side and largely unscathed, he could not deny that they had played a part in the Dark Lord's temporary, if at all established, regime. But at the time, a reprieve from all the madness was worth the squalor of living without magic.

At first, Draco found it difficult to adjust to living as a Muggle, but being rather quick minded, picked up enough about acting like one to get by. Before he realized it, he had come to even like the simplicity of having an ordinary schedule. Eventually, he settled into the everyday routine he had created: work, eat, and come home. True, his earnings and housings were little more than meager, but they would do until he returned to the Wizarding World. IF he returned. He had been surprised to find reluctance within himself at the thought of going back. Draco had never questioned his happiness or satisfaction once he had gotten settled into his new life. But for the first time since his departure, he found himself to be in an upsetting situation.

Draco was feeling things. Things he shouldn't have been feeling. Towards all the wrong people. He strode down the sidewalk, feeling as if there were a weight on his shoulders, brooding heavily. It had been over a year since he had felt any romantic stirrings towards anyone, wizard or Muggle. And that's all they had been. Stirrings. But now…now something altogether more disturbing was occurring. Everywhere he looked, he could feel his eyes being drawn to every good looking person that passed by him, sizing each one up and unwittingly letting his mind fall into the throes of fantasy. Normally, he would only be slightly concerned - after all, a year of no sex could be just the thing to awaken his now desperate libido. However, there was a problem. A huge problem. A detrimental, overwhelming problem that he could not explain, could not bear to face. Squeezing his eyes shut and attempting to block out any treacherous, invading thoughts, Draco walked faster and turned, nearly crashing into several people. Luckily, he evaded his demise for a few more steps before colliding with something solid and extremely firm. He stopped, rubbing his forehead, and opened his eyes to find himself at a small, classy looking building that had a chic, metallic exterior and glass doors. Large letters displayed its title: "Evans's Psychology". The name struck a familiar chord in Draco's mind, but he was unable to place its origins. It was of no concern to him - Evans was a fairly common name. He glanced around before hurrying inside as inconspicuously as possible. The inside of the building matched its outside walls; both were comprised of metal and neutral colors. All in all, it looked very professional. Draco had to approve of his choice as he walked to the front desk, a circular structure that was placed next to a cherry wood door. He stared curiously at the warm brown before turning his gaze to the stark white of the desk. An indifferent looking woman with her hair in a bun and bags under her eyes stared up at him. "May I help you?" she inquired in a flat tone.

Taking a deep breath, Draco looked around once more before saying, "I need to talk to someone." She raised an eyebrow.

"Do you have an appointment?"

Draco bit his lip, hesitating. He had never done this before. "Does this office do walk-ins?" She sighed, and handed him some papers on a clipboard.

"Fill this out and I think we can fit you in."

As Draco sat down in a chair straight across the room to fill out the forms, Yolanda peered at him curiously. He seemed unaware that she was watching him from behind her desk. She was not old, no. Barely 32, her frazzled appearance was due more to her constant dealing with customers who were oversensitive and prone to mental breakdowns than it was to age. She sometimes wondered at Dr. Evans's sense of tolerance and patience. How could he deal with such self-absorbed, whiny ingrates that did nothing but bitch about life? She shook her head to clear away her frustration, and focused again on the man who had just entered the room. He was incredibly good-looking. She could tell even through the plain, boring suit and uptight, slicked back hairdo. The glasses were fake; she had learned to discern such things at her previous job. As an optometrist's secretary, she was used to seeing kids with fake, thick rimmed spectacles that were being taken as fashion statements instead of serving their true purpose – helping people to see. But this man did not seem like he cared much about appearances, only that he was being taken seriously. The glasses looked as if they supported her conclusion. They had thin black rims around the top of the lens, but no trimmings or decorations could be found along the sides. Behind them were eyes the color of steel, lighter than the sky outside and flecked with icy blue. They had pierced her when he looked straight at her, and they pierced her even when he didn't. His silvery, platinum blonde hair was a rare natural looking shade, and it accented his pale, silky looking skin. Yolanda could see that he was leanly built, but well toned underneath the wrinkled, second-rate collared shirt. And yet, despite his obvious gorgeousness, she could not honestly call him handsome. He was something more, seemingly caught between handsome and painfully beautiful. His movements were graceful and unafraid, each gesture carried out smoothly without silly embellishments or an actual attempt at elegance. It was simply effortless. This made him all the more appealing, but it also stirred fear inside her; she was afraid to touch something that seemed so perfect. He was utterly off-limits, out of anyone's league. Perhaps it was that fact that disarmed her about this young man. He was absolutely dazzling, but in an untouchable way.

"Excuse me, miss?"

She was shocked out of her reverie by its subject. He had walked up to her and she hadn't even noticed. The man pushed the forms across to her. "I've filled out the information." His apprehensive tone added to the quality of his voice. It was not deep, not high, but something that made you think of Orpheus. Maybe not as magical, but certainly enchanting, and once again something in between, like the rest of him.

"Okay, Mr. … Levianthal, go right ahead." She gestured to the wooden door and watched him leave the room. Sighing, Yolanda propped her head up on her elbows. If only more cute guys showed up at this job.

As Draco turned and walked, he found himself in a short corridor with two restrooms on one side, and a lone door at the very end. For some odd reason, he felt as if he were walking down a passage through time. It gave him an odd, lifted feeling that resembled walking on air. Another wooden door now stood in front of him, this one the color of mahogany. A small brass plaque was nailed above the peephole. "Dr. Evans?" He called out to occupant of the room. Draco heard a muffled "come in" as an answer, and pushed it open.

The back of a leather chair was turned to him, blocking the doctor from his view. "Sit down." A low voice issued from behind it, sending chills up Draco's spine. There was a strong sense of purpose and masculinity in his deep, husky tone. He imagined it would be quite intimidating if its owner were angered. Yet he found himself reassured as he placed himself on the reclining chair Dr. Evans had behind his seat. "So what's the problem?" Draco heard scribbling on paper as the other man spoke.

Draco paused a few seconds before answering.

"I think I'm going crazy."

"And what makes you think that?" He could practically hear the smile in Evans's voice. Draco huffed, impatient and not about to be laughed at.

"Well, why bother to ask if you seem to think so yourself?"

This time, a real chuckle floated up from behind the seat. "I've hardly any premise to judge you, Mr. …?"

"Levianthal." Draco replied, partially mollified.

"Ah, yes. As I was saying, Mr. Levianthal, I can hardly evaluate your character if we haven't met. That being said, let's introduce ourselves." And with that, Dr. Evans swung around to reveal a startlingly bright pair of emerald green eyes. Draco inhaled sharply, surprise nearly stifling his next word.

"...Potter?"

**Right. Please review. It's a bit choppy, so I hope I can improve it soon. Oh, and I have an important question to ask, but I'll see how many reviews this gets first.**


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